


curiosity

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Aromantic Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dean/Benny Is Not Explicitly Sexual But It Is Explicitly Romantic, Dean/Castiel Is Not Romantic But It Is Explicitly Sexual, Everybody Is Cool And On Board, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: “Dude. Does this mean we get to go on Tinder and look for hook-ups for you? Or take you to the bar?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, nudging Benny in the shoulder. “We’d make great wingmen.”Castiel shakes his head, gathering all his nerve. “No. I don’t want my first-- and probably my only-- time to be with some stranger.” His lips have gone dry with nervousness, and he licks them, eyes flicking between Dean and Benny.There’s no turning back now. He meets Dean’s eyes and says, “I want to have sex with you.”





	curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna spell it out right here so you can't say I didn't warn you: Dean and Cas are not in a romantic or sexual relationship in this story. Dean and Benny are. This doesn't change because Dean and Cas have sex once, with Benny's full knowledge and consent. They're best friends, and that's important in its own right. If you're looking for Dean/Cas endgame, you will not find it here. 
> 
> Also, labels are tough, and Castiel's experience of asexuality may not match everyone's interpretation. This doesn't make his, or yours, or mine, any less valid. 
> 
> An enormous thank-you to Diamond for your support through every stage of this fic. Wouldn't have done it without you, friend.

Castiel has been thinking about it for a long time.

Sex.

About having it, about not having it, and all the space in between. The space he’s negotiated for roughly the past fifteen years, ever since the first of his classmates started bragging about their exploits. He spent years trying to figure out why the idea scared him, then intrigued him, and then eventually bored him. Now, at thirty, he wears the colours of the asexual flag to the local Pride parade and confidently introduces himself as gray-asexual aromantic. It’s not perfect, because labels usually aren’t, but it works for him.

Lately, though, he’s started to wonder. What it feels like. 

He knows what an orgasm feels like. He’s no stranger to masturbation, to the feel of his own hand on his cock, to the way jerking off before bed helps him fall asleep or clears a headache in the morning. But he doesn’t know what it feels like to be touched that way by another person, or to touch them in return. It’s curiosity, more than anything else. He doesn’t expect it to change his life, or to spark something in himself that has lain dormant all these years. It’s not a case of waiting for the right person to come along. 

But if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, there’s only one person he’d consider doing it with.

***

It takes a few weeks for the opportune moment to present itself. Castiel has thought it over, weighed the pros and cons, second-guessed himself and then recommitted to his plan a hundred times over. But the thought won’t leave him alone, the strange need to know once and for all.

They’re at the Roadhouse on a Friday night, a tradition stretching back through the years. Castiel arrives first, as usual, and secures the booth in the back corner, not far from the pool tables. Jo swings by with a pitcher and three glasses, winking at Castiel before hurrying back to the bar. Castiel pours the beer between the glasses and is just setting the pitcher back on the table when Dean and Benny slide into the booth across from him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, grinning. “Sorry we’re late.”

“You say that every week,” Cas replies mildly. “And yet, every week, you’re late.” He turns to Benny, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I thought you Southerners were supposed to be all about manners.”

“We are. But Dean isn’t from the south,” Benny points out. “Regular Kansas boy like yourself.”

Castiel smiles as Dean rolls his eyes and slings his arm over the back of the booth, hand brushing idly against Benny’s shoulder. “Much to your mother’s disappointment.”

“She’ll come around.” Benny raises Dean’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to his palm. Even in the dim light of the bar, Cas can see Dean flush. “Just you wait.”

Dean clears his throat and uses his free hand to raise his glass to his lips. “So,” he says, colour still high, “how was your week, Cas?”

Cas takes a sip of his own beer, considering. “It was fine. I had to take Cersei to the vet on Wednesday.” Benny and Dean both make concerned noises, and he waves them off. “Just a check-up, but she was unimpressed with me for the rest of the day.”

“I still think it was a mistake naming her that,” Dean mutters. “Self-fulfilling prophecy, if you ask me.”

“As if you wouldn’t name your pet Leia and then complain when she had the stubbornness to match,” Castiel shoots back.

“No pets.” Benny shakes his head, giving Dean a stern look, but then softening it with a wink. “Not until we’ve moved into our new place, at least.”

Dean laughs as Cas leans forward, eyebrows raised. “The loan got approved?”

“Yep.” Dean wraps his arm around Benny again, pulling him close. “You’re looking at a pair of almost-homeowners, buddy.”

“Well.” Castiel raises his glass. “That’s wonderful. Cheers to that.”

“Thanks, brother.” Benny smiles at him as he clinks his glass against Castiel’s. “You know this means we’re going to be begging for your help packing, though. Dean’s going to be busy marking exams right around that time, and you know he’ll use that as an excuse to put it off as long as possible.”

Dean lets out an indignant noise, and they dissolve into playful bickering as Castiel sips his beer, smiling at their familiar rhythms. They’re good for each other, these two. Benny’s steadiness balances out Dean’s lightning-flash mood changes, and Dean’s playfulness coaxes Benny out of the quiet that can often come across as glumness. 

Castiel may not be interested in romantic relationships, but that doesn’t mean he can’t recognize a good one when he sees it. Dean and Benny have been together for almost three years now, and for almost three years, they’ve been spending their Friday nights just like this. Between Castiel’s job at the science centre, Dean’s teaching, and Benny running his diner, it isn’t always easy to find time in their schedules, but Fridays are theirs. The three of them have developed a close, comfortable friendship in that time, and Castiel has never felt awkward or left out around them the way he sometimes does with other couples.

It’s that comfort, more than anything else, that gives him the courage to broach the subject. 

He drains the last of his beer and sets the empty glass down on the table. Benny and Dean pause in their conversation, turning their full attention to him, and Castiel says, “I think I want to have sex.”

It’s amusing, really, the difference in their reactions. Benny blinks once, as though he isn’t sure he heard Castiel properly, and then a slow smile spreads across his face. Dean, meanwhile, nearly chokes on his beer, eyes wide. “You what?”

“I want to have sex,” Castiel repeats. It feels strange, saying it out loud, but it doesn’t feel untrue. “Just to see what it’s like.”

Dean is still staring at him, mouth hanging open, so Benny takes it upon himself to reply. “That’s great, Cas,” he says gently. “If it’s something you want, then you should do it.”

“But you don’t--” Dean starts, then stops himself. “Sorry. I just-- I thought you weren’t interested in people like that.”

“I’m not, really. And I don’t think that’s likely to change.” Castiel shrugs. “But I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit, and I’m curious.”

He can see Dean struggling to make sense of it, and he doesn’t fault him for it. Dean was the first person Castiel told about being ace, way back in college. For almost as long as they’ve known each other, Dean has seen him a certain way, and now Castiel is complicating that. 

“Okay.” Dean lets out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Okay. Well. Good for you, buddy.” He grins, then, his eyes lighting up. “Dude. Does this mean we get to go on Tinder and look for hook-ups for you? Or take you to the bar?” He wiggles his eyebrows, nudging Benny in the shoulder. “We’d make great wingmen.”

Castiel shakes his head, gathering all his nerve. “No. I don’t want my first-- and probably my only-- time to be with some stranger.” His lips have gone dry with nervousness, and he licks them, eyes flicking between Dean and Benny. 

There’s no turning back now. He meets Dean’s eyes and says, “I want to have sex with you.”

***

They make a hasty exit from the Roadhouse after that. Dean is quiet as they pile into Benny’s battered truck, heading back to Castiel’s apartment. They always drop him off at the end of the night, Benny never drinking more than one beer and playing designated driver to Dean and Castiel. It’s no different tonight, even though they’ve only had one beer each. Dean sits in the passenger seat and Castiel climbs into the back, perfectly positioned between the two of them.

It isn’t until they’re inside Castiel’s apartment that Dean whirls to face him. “You were joking, right?”

Castiel sinks onto the couch, Cersei emerging from underneath long enough to meow her disapproval at the noise before slinking back into the shadows. “No,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t joking.”

Benny still hasn’t said anything. His silence is starting to unnerve Castiel. He knows Benny’s a few years older than him and Dean, that before he opened the little diner on the edge of town, he was in the army. His steadiness is hard-won, from what Dean has told Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t particularly want to find out what might happen when it crumbles. 

With a sigh, Benny drops into the armchair across from him and tugs Dean down to perch on its arm. “Ain’t everyday your friend tells you he wants to get cozy with your boyfriend,” he says eventually. “I’m not mad, Cas. I’m just a little surprised.”

“More than a little,” Dean snorts. He runs his hand through his hair, looking sidelong at Castiel. “Cas, there are millions of people in the world. I’m sure plenty of them would be interested in a night with you. So why me?”

Castiel has asked himself the same question over the past few weeks. Why, when he thinks about it, he can’t imagine doing _that_ with anyone but Dean. Dean is stunning, he knows. He’s always thought so, even when they were nervous eighteen year-olds meeting at college for the first time. But it isn’t about the way he looks. It’s about something else, something more important and much harder to explain.

“You’re the only one I trust enough for this,” he says quietly. He looks at Benny, who’s watching him with interest but not, Castiel is relieved to note, disapproval. “I know it’s an imposition, even asking. It’s selfish of me, but--” He shrugs, lifting his hands in the air. “There it is.”

Dean looks down at Benny, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. Benny gazes up at him, and some wordless conversation passes between them, in a language Castiel doesn’t speak. After a long moment, Benny drags his eyes away and looks back across the room at Castiel. 

“Just so we’re clear,” he says, “we’re talking about a one-time thing?”

Castiel sits up, folding his hands in front of himself. “Yes.” If Benny is seeking clarification, he isn’t immediately opposed to the idea. That’s encouraging.

Benny looks up at Dean again, and even from this distance, Castiel can see the fondness in his eyes. “It’s your call, cher,” he murmurs. “It won’t make me love you any less, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Dean exhales shakily, dropping his head down to rest against Benny’s. “I know,” he says. “You’re not the possessive type.” He raises his head and frowns at Castiel. “I want to help you out, Cas. I’m just--” He shrugs, cleary uneasy. “It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

“I understand,” Castiel says. “I appreciate the fact that you’re considering it at all, and I hope you know that it doesn’t have to affect our friendship, no matter your answer.”

Dean stares at him, the silence deepening, and then with a muttered curse, crosses the room to drop onto the couch beside him. “You really want this?” he asks softly, his knee knocking against Castiel’s. 

Castiel glances back at Benny, who gives him a small nod. “Yes,” he says to Dean. “I do.”

Slowly, a smile breaks across Dean’s face. “Alright,” he says. “I, Dean Winchester, will have sex with you, Castiel Novak.”

An immense wave of relief and affection crashes over Castiel at the ridiculous words. He swallows heavily, unsure how to respond, but is saved from having to do so as Dean rolls his eyes and pulls him into a rough embrace.

They’ve always been comfortable expressing their friendship physically. Dean is, in his own words, a bit of a cuddle monster, and Castiel has always enjoyed the easy affection they demonstrate to each other. It feels different, now, though. There’s a weight behind their touch, an anticipation that has never been there before.

After a moment, Castiel pulls away and clears his throat. He looks at Benny, who is sitting as calm as ever, and says, “If you, ah, want to be present--”

Benny immediately holds up his hands in protest. “That’s sweet, Cas, but it ain’t necessary. This isn’t about me.”

“No,” Dean agrees, “but you’re still involved.” He squeezes Cas’ shoulder once, then joins Benny in the armchair again, sitting on his lap rather than on the arm this time. “If you change your mind, if you’re not cool with this all of a sudden, we don’t do it. Simple as that.” He meets Castiel’s eyes, and Castiel nods firmly. He wouldn’t dream of proceeding without Benny’s full consent and support.

“Do you want me to sign a contract?” Benny teases. He presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and Dean melts against him. “What’s the number one rule, cher?”

“We’re always honest with each other.” Dean’s words are muffled by the way he’s held against Benny’s chest, but Castiel hears them regardless. 

“Right. So.” Benny raises Dean’s face up to his and smiles at him. “I’m not gonna change my mind, Dean.”

Castiel gives them a moment, not wanting to interrupt, but it seems the discussion has concluded. “Of course,” he says, “the same goes for you, Dean. I know you, the way you bulldoze your way through things you’re afraid of. If you decide you don’t want to do this, please respect both me and yourself enough to tell me.”

Dean looks over and gives him a lopsided grin. “Funny. That’s pretty much exactly what I was going to say to you.”

Castiel huffs a soft laugh. There’s so much gratitude bubbling up in his chest, so much awareness of how blessed he is in his friends. It’s an enormous gift Dean and Benny are offering him, and he’s humbled by it.

“Well. Now that that’s settled.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens his calendar, frowning down at the tiny boxes that fill the screen. “Would Wednesday be convenient?”

***

The first time Castiel explained asexuality (or at least his version of it) to Dean, he used what he now refers to as the sunset metaphor. “It means I can appreciate how aesthetically appealing a person can be without being sexually attracted to them,” he said. “For instance, I can see a beautiful person and look at them the exact same way I look at a sunset. It might hold my attention, it might make me want to have a picture of it I can revisit later, and it might even cause a strange, almost painful sensation in my chest. But I don’t want to fuck a sunset, and I certainly don’t want to fuck every person I find attractive.”

It seems fitting, then, that on Wednesday night, there’s the most spectacular sunset Castiel has seen in a long time. 

He takes a picture of the view from his apartment window and sends it to Dean. _Isn’t it romantic?_ he writes.

His phone immediately lights up as a flurry of replies comes in, one after the other.

_Did you want romantic?_

_Damn it, Cas, you should have told me. I would have brought flowers. Pie. The mix I made back in senior year, the greatest soundtrack to making out in Baby’s backseat._

_Cas, I will woo the shit out of you if that’s what you want._

Laughing to himself, Castiel types out a quick reply. _No, Dean. I don’t want or need romance. Relax._

_Okay thank god. See you soon._

He settles onto the couch, reaching out to stroke his hand through Cersei’s soft golden fur. He’ll have to lock her out of the bedroom, which she probably won’t appreciate. As though sensing the direction of his thoughts, she raises her head and glares at him, butting against his palm. “Sorry, girl,” he murmurs. “I can assure you, it will more than likely be the last time this will happen.”

She meows softly and allows him to resume his petting. It’s soothing, the familiar rhythm, though Castiel wouldn’t say he’s nervous. He feels a certain sense of anticipation, but not apprehension. He wants this, and he trusts Dean, not only not to hurt him but to take care of him, in every sense of the word.

He knows Dean has a long and varied sexual history. After all, Castiel was the one he first told about his potential attraction to men, the one he turned to after sharing a joint and a pair of blowjobs with Aaron Bass during their sophomore year of college. He’s only made a habit of one of those two activities since. 

From his position on the couch, Castiel can see down to the street below. He hears the familiar rumble of Benny’s truck as it pulls up and watches as Benny climbs out, Dean following a second behind. Castiel smiles softly as Benny sweeps Dean into an embrace, then pulls away to cup Dean’s face between his hands, expression serious as he says something Castiel can’t decipher. Dean smiles and presses a kiss to Benny’s cheek, then turns away with a wave. 

A minute later, there’s a soft knock at the door. Cersei jumps off the couch and trots over to the door, Castiel following after her. “Hello, Dean,” he says as he opens the door. “Right on time.”

“Would be kind of a dick move to be late for this, wouldn’t it?” Dean steps inside, grinning. “Wait. You asked me here for my dick moves.” He winks, and Castiel just shakes his head in exasperation.

“Very funny,” he says drily. Cersei twines around Dean’s ankles, apparently in a benevolent mood, and Dean reaches down to scratch gently behind her ears. Castiel takes the chance to observe him, the plain black t-shirt he’s wearing under his battered leather jacket, one of his nicer pairs of jeans.

“Did you dress up for me?” he asks, leaning against the wall and fighting to keep the smile off his face. 

“What?” Dean looks up, flushing faintly. “Not really?” He laughs. “Okay, maybe a little. Don’t know why. The clothes are coming off anyway, right?”

“Right.”

There’s a slightly awkward silence broken only by Cersei’s soft purrs. Castiel pushes off from the wall and makes a brief gesture to the closet. Nodding, Dean hangs up his coat, then follows Castiel into the living room.

“So,” he says, planting his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow. 

“So,” Castiel echoes.

After another uncomfortable silence, Dean mutters something under his breath and takes a step closer to Castiel, cupping one hand around his elbow. “Hey. You still with me?”

Castiel breathes out slowly, then nods. He can feel the heat from Dean’s body, smell the faint woody aroma of his aftershave. “Yes,” he says. 

“And you know the second you change your mind, the second you want to stop--”

“I’ll tell you.” Castiel smiles, meeting his eyes. “I know, Dean.”

“Okay.” Dean’s expression is serious, but at the conviction in Castiel’s voice, a trace of a smile appears on his lips. “You just going to carry me to bed and have your way with me, or what?”

“The thought had occurred to me,” Castiel replies, making him huff with laughter. “But my understanding is that we usually start with something a little simpler, like a kiss.”

“Sure,” Dean says, moving closer again. “You’ve kissed people before, right?”

He has. A few people in high school, a few others in crowded clubs over the years. Castiel likes kissing, likes the way it can feel like a natural continuation of a conversation. It’s just that he doesn’t like the assumption that a kiss is going to progress to other things. 

But tonight, he wants it to.

He tilts his face up in clear invitation and says, “Yes.”

Dean’s lips are soft against his, firm but not insistent. Castiel closes his eyes and lets the sensation wash over him, instinctively moving closer as Dean’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in. He had thought it might be strange, kissing his best friend, but it isn’t.

Dean seems content to let him set the pace, so after a few moments, Castiel slants his mouth sideways and deepens the kiss. Dean lets out a soft noise and parts his lips, pulling Castiel closer. There’s nothing hesitant in the way Dean holds him, his touch assured but still genuine. 

Castiel leans back, breaking the kiss, and meets Dean’s eyes briefly before moving to trail his lips over his cheek and down the curve of his neck. Dean shudders, eyes fluttering closed, and Castiel smiles into the soft skin behind his ear. It’s satisfying, knowing Dean is enjoying this as well, that he’s getting something out of the experience just as Castiel is. 

Emboldened, Castiel increases the pressure of his next kiss, nipping lightly at the skin of Dean’s neck. Dean lets out a shaky laugh and murmurs, “Feisty,” but there’s no rebuke in his tone. He draws back far enough to look Castiel in the eyes, grinning, then deliberately mimics his motions. Castiel goes completely still in Dean’s arms, sucking in a startled breath at the intensity of the thrill that courses through him as Dean pulls his earlobe between his teeth. 

He’s not entirely a stranger to the way his veins are filling with liquid fire, but it’s unusual to have the sensations provoked by anyone else. Castiel licks his lips, noting the way Dean’s eyes immediately drop to follow the movement, then tilts his head towards the bedroom. “Should we--”

“It’s your call,” Dean replies swiftly. He stands patient under Castiel’s gaze, lips swollen from their kisses, chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing. 

Reaching out, Castiel takes his hand and tugs him towards the bedroom. With a murmured apology to Cersei, he shuts the door firmly behind them and pulls Dean back in for another kiss.

They fall onto the bed a moment later, clumsy and uncoordinated. Dean lands on top of Castiel and rolls off with a whispered apology, but Castiel pulls him back, not wanting to break the kiss. Dean is pliable and warm in his hands, one palm resting at Castiel’s hip where his shirt has been rucked up by their tumble. His thumb strokes soothing circles over the exposed skin there, and Castiel shivers.

“Take it off,” he says. His voice sounds rough even to his own ears. “Yours, too.”

Dean laughs, sitting up so he can pull his t-shirt over his shoulders. His chest gleams in the light from the lamp on the bedside table, the pentagram tattooed over his heart stark. He toys with the hem of Castiel’s shirt, glancing up into his face, and Castiel wriggles his torso against the mattress to help him remove it.

They’ve seen each other shirtless before. Countless barbecues or games of soccer on the college fields, summers spent hanging out by the community pool. But Dean has never looked at him like this, with admiration and appreciation in his eyes. Has never reached out, tentative, and stroked the backs of his fingers down Castiel’s ribs, tracing the lines of his hipbones back and forth. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly. “I know you said you didn’t need romantic, and I’m not trying to be. I just think you deserve to hear it, Cas.”

Castiel swallows around the lump that has risen in his throat. He didn’t think he needed to hear that kind of praise, especially not from Dean, but he can’t deny how good it feels. “So are you,” he whispers. He reaches up and lays his palm flat over Dean’s tattoo. “You’re beautiful, Dean. Inside and out.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean gives a self-conscious laugh, shrugging. “I’m going to have to kiss you again, just to shut you up.”

“I’m amenable,” Cas replies, and pulls Dean’s face back down to his.

Bared skin, he soon learns, makes a significant difference to the feeling of a kiss. Dean’s arms slide against his shoulders as they press together, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation. Castiel places his hands over Dean’s shoulders, marvelling at the flex of his muscles under his palms, then slowly glides them down to rest on his hips. Dean bucks forward at his touch, pulling out of the kiss, and Castiel starts to pull back, an apology springing to his lips, before Dean grins down at him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Go on.” He stills, and Castiel puts his hands back where they were, digging into the soft flesh at Dean’s hips and holding on tight as Dean drops his head to nuzzle at the side of his neck.

“Can I kiss you here?” he asks, eyes sweeping down to Castiel’s collarbone and chest. 

In response, Castiel just nods. He closes his eyes as Dean scatters kisses across the expanse of his shoulders and chest, then moves slightly lower. It’s almost ticklish, the slight rasp of his stubble against such sensitive skin, and Castiel tips his head back against the pillow and laughs.

Dean raises his head, pouting. “I’m pulling out my best moves, here, man, and you’re laughing at me?”

“You’re doing great,” Castiel says soothingly. “It’s just--” He reaches up and taps Dean’s chin. “Itchy.”

Dean raises one eyebrow at him. “So you want me to stop?”

“I never said that.” Castiel shifts under him, and Dean immediately tenses, face tightening Castiel frowns, then moves again. This time, he feels the press of Dean’s erection against his thigh.

“Sorry--” Dean starts, but Castiel cuts him off. 

“Don’t.” It isn’t that Castiel is nervous about proceeding, only that he doesn’t know exactly how to do so. “Tell me,” he says. “What’s next?”

“Whatever you want,” Dean answers immediately. “We can just stay like this, or--”

It’s sweet, how cautious he’s being, but Castiel senses that he’s going to have to employ the same direct approach he did when he first raised the possibility of this happening or it never actually will. “Take your pants off, Dean.”

Dean laughs as he rolls to the side and shimmies out of his jeans. “You got it.” He props himself up on his elbow and peers down into Castiel’s face. “Yours too?”

In response, Castiel tugs off his jeans and tosses them aside. They land somewhere with a thump, and Dean laughs again. 

They gravitate back together, both of them curled on their sides, facing towards each other. Castiel can feel the insistent line of Dean’s cock through the soft cotton of his boxers, and he’s equally hard, his lower body pressing closer in search of relief. Castiel twines his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls him in until there’s no space left between them, making Dean gasp as their groins come into contact. 

This is uncharted territory, but Castiel isn’t afraid. His body is completely on board with the proceedings, and though his heart remains somewhat detached, his brain is actively cataloguing the sensations coursing through him, how they’re the same and yet different from those he feels when he touches himself. 

His breathing is becoming ragged, as is Dean’s. He draws back, rolling over to reach into the bedside table to grab the condoms and lube he’d purchased earlier in the day. Dean, observing over his shoulder, makes a noise of approval. “Look at you, buying your own supplies like a responsible adult.”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he rejoins him. “I figured you would come prepared, but I wasn’t going to risk the possibility of not being able to proceed due to something so trivial.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I did come prepared.” Dean is peeling off his boxers, and Castiel’s eyes are immediately drawn to his cock as it springs free. He’s thick, not quite as long as Castiel but pleasingly big. “Still proud of you, though.”

“Mmn-hmn.” Castiel can’t really remember what it is they were talking about. That’s Dean’s dick. His best friend’s naked in front of him, and it’s such a surreal sight that Castiel almost pinches himself to make sure it’s real.

“You with me, Cas?”

“Yeah.” Castiel shakes his head, swallowing roughly. Quickly, he pulls off his own underwear, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. He’s not ashamed of his body, exactly, but he’s never been in such a vulnerable position before. Dean’s eyes remain fixed on his face, understanding, and Castiel exhales slowly, lowering his hands to his sides and willing himself to relax. 

Only then does Dean drop his gaze, eyes sweeping slowly from the top of Castiel’s head all the way to his feet and then back up. “I’m one hell of a lucky guy,” he murmurs with a crooked smile. 

Castiel feels a flush rising in his cheeks, and he squirms against the sheets. He doesn’t know how to respond, but Dean seems to realize that, running his hand up and down his side in a steady motion. 

“So how do you want to do this?” he asks. “You said sex, but there are a bunch of different ways to have sex. Are we talking all the way, here?”

“Yes.” Castiel nods firmly. It’s a bullshit notion, that penetrative sex is somehow more meaningful than any other kind, but at the same time, it’s what he’s most curious about.

“Okay.” For the first time since he arrived, Dean seems slightly hesitant. “You, uh, want to bottom, I’m guessing?”

It’s a reasonable assumption to make, but Castiel shakes his head. “No. I’ve already satisfied my curiosity in that regard during a few exploratory sessions.”

Dean sputters, his eyes flaring wide. “Jesus, Cas. That’s a vivid image.”

Castiel shrugs. “You asked.”

“I sure did,” Dean mutters under his breath. “Okay. Cool. I’ve got no problem getting dicked.” He grins, the expression familiar even if the rest of the situation isn’t. “Wanna help me get ready?”

They prep him together, and Castiel watches in fascination as Dean shivers at the first touch of a finger to his hole, as his mouth drops open as Castiel presses inside him. They’re still on their sides, facing each other, Dean’s head tucked into the crook of Castiel’s shoulder, breath hot against his skin. 

After a few minutes, Dean pulls away and says, “I’m good.” Castiel slowly withdraws his fingers, suddenly unsure. Dean is patient with him, helping him roll on the condom, hands gentle as they brush against his cock for the first time.

They’re as ready as they’re going to be, but Castiel freezes. Dean is quiet, eyes steady, as Castiel takes a deep breath and says, “I’m not having second thoughts. I’m not. But can you just--” He makes a helpless gesture. “I need you to take the lead here, okay?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Okay, Cas.”

With firm but careful hands, he rolls Castiel onto his back, then braces himself above him. He strokes Castiel’s cock lightly, once, twice, then shifts his weight back and down, slowly sinking onto him.

The breath is punched out of Castiel’s lungs as Dean takes him in fully. He’s so warm inside, so tight. Dean makes a noise of contentment, glancing down at Castiel with a smile. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Castiel chokes out. “I’m good.”

When Dean begins to move, Castiel groans and tips his head back against the pillow, hands clutching at the sheets beneath him. It’s not an exaggeration to say he’s never felt anything like this before. Dean rides him in practiced movements, hips and thighs working furiously as he rises and falls above him, an easy grin on his face the entire time. 

Once Castiel can catch his breath, he raises his hands to Dean’s hips, holding on tightly and taking some of the burden off him. With that assistance, Dean is able to move even faster, to take him even deeper. Castiel bites down on his lower lip, his own hips starting to rise upwards to meet Dean as he descends, gradually picking up on his rhythm.

Dean waits until they’re moving in sync, then rolls them over so he’s flat on his back with Castiel between his spread legs. “C’mon,” he coaxes. “Let go, Cas.”

And so Castiel does. He drives his hips forward and Dean gasps. “Yeah. Just like that.” Castiel repeats the movement, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, Dean’s legs spreading even wider as he does. He’s acting on pure instinct now, his body responding to the pleasure coursing through it and chasing more of that feeling. 

There’s a stream of meaningless words spilling from Dean’s lips, encouragements and curses and variations on Cas’ name. He hears it all through a haze of pleasure, thrusting forward with no finesse. Dean doesn’t seem to care, if the noises he’s making are any indication. He reaches down between them to wrap one hand around his own cock, stroking it in time with Castiel’s thrusts, lower lip caught between his teeth and eyes gleaming in the lamplight. 

Castiel can feel a familiar tension rising in his abdomen, the signal of an approaching orgasm. This entire exercise was somewhat selfish on his part, so he wants to hold off until Dean comes. It’s hard, though, when Dean is meeting every one of his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, his body so tight and welcoming around Castiel, clenching occasionally and pulling sounds Castiel has never made before from his lips.

“Dean,” he gasps, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, “are you--”

“Yeah.” Dean lets out a groan as Castiel thrusts all the way home, hand moving faster over his cock. “I’m gonna--”

Castiel drives himself forward one more time, and Dean comes. His entire body locks up, muscles tensing and holding Castiel deep inside as he spills over his own fist, eyes fluttering closed. Castiel waits, breathless, until Dean opens his eyes and nods at him, a lazy smile crossing his lips. “Go on,” he urges. “Let go, Cas.”

It only takes two more rough thrusts before Castiel follows him, his entire body lighting up with the pleasure of release. He shudders as his orgasm crashes over him, overwhelmingly intense, then slumps forward onto Dean’s chest.

Dean lets out a grunt of surprise, but raises his hands to stroke lightly across Castiel’s shoulders. “Did we kill you?”

Groaning, Castiel raises his head and glares at him. “Give me a moment, would you?”

“Sorry.” Dean smiles, shoulders shaking with laughter as he holds Castiel closer. “Take all the time you need, buddy.”

Still grumbling, Castiel shifts into a more comfortable position, letting his heart rate settle as he absorbs what just happened. It felt good, undeniably so. But not really any better, just different, than when he gets himself off. The end result was the same, and maybe if a romantic bond were present, he could see the difference really making an impact, but for him--

Rolling off Dean, he turns onto his side and props himself up on one elbow. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean’s smile is filled with understanding. “Was it-- I mean, I know it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal or whatever, but--”

“It was exactly what I wanted,” Castiel tells him. “Thank you for giving it to me.”

“I mean, technically, you were the one giving it to me--” Dean dissolves into helpless laughter as Castiel rolls his eyes, pinching his arm. “But seriously. You’re good?”

Castiel knows what he’s asking. If he’s feeling any regret, which he isn’t. “I’m good,” he answers. “You?”

Dean shrugs. “Kinda sticky. Sex is messy. But yeah, I’m good.”

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” Castiel offers. “I’m slightly less messy. I’ll put some decaf on.” He hesitates, then, unsure of the protocol following any sexual encounter and especially one involving your best friend doing you a favour. “Are you planning to stay?”

Dean sits up, meeting his eyes. “Do you want me to? Whatever you need, Cas.”

“No.” Castiel shakes his head firmly. He understands why Dean thinks he might want that emotional and physical reassurance, but he doesn’t. “Of course you can stay if you want, but I don’t need you to.”

“Alright.” Dean stands, grimacing as he swipes his hand over the drying come on his stomach, then heads towards the bathroom. “I’ve got Benny on stand-by. I’ll let him know to swing by in what, half an hour?”

More than anything else, more than the kissing or the sex or the minimal cuddling afterward, that small statement leaves a pleasant warmth in Castiel’s chest. Knowing that Dean and Benny discussed this down to the last detail, to having Benny at the ready should any of them change their minds, demonstrates how much care and consideration they put into this night. All because he asked it of them. 

Castiel swings out of the bed, energized, and throws his robe on, belting it tightly. He opens the bedroom door and meets Cersei’s baleful glare, running a hand down her back as he passes on the way to the kitchen. He turns on the coffeemaker, humming to himself, one of those songs Dean loves to pretend he hates but sings along to every time it comes on the radio. 

They’re sipping their coffee at the kitchen island, maintaining an impressively casual conversation, when Benny knocks at the door. Dean is out of his seat in a flash and in Benny’s arms even faster. Castiel smiles to himself, then politely looks away. 

A few minutes later, he feels a warm hand settle on his back. “How are you doing, Cas?” Benny asks, nothing but affectionate concern in his voice.

Castiel twists to look at him, smiling. “I’m good,” he says. He looks over at Dean, who’s grinning proudly, and rises to his feet, wrapping Benny in a hug.

Benny huffs a soft laugh but pulls him in, his strong arms holding Castiel close. “Not that I’m complaining,” he says, “but what’s all this about?”

“You’re a good man, Benny Lafitte,” Castiel tells him. “Thank you.”

Rather than replying, Benny just tightens his embrace. Castiel relaxes into his hold, enjoying the feeling of being held against such a broad chest, the security and comfort it brings. Dean has always waxed poetic about the way Benny holds him, and Castiel finally understands why. 

It also explains why, a moment later, he feels Dean wriggle into the embrace. “Group hug,” he declares, shamelessly pushing himself into the middle. “Good job, team. Mission was a success, by all accounts.”

Castiel rolls his eyes but gathers Dean close as he does. He’s so predictable in his irreverence, but Castiel wouldn’t have him any other way. They stay pressed together for a few more breaths, quiet, before Castiel disentangles himself. 

“I think we ought to call it a night,” he says.

Benny nods, patting his shoulder. “See you on Friday?”

“Yeah.” Castiel nods. “See you Friday.”

He turns to Dean, who’s watching him with a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you,” Castiel says again. “Not just for what you did, but for how.”

Dean’s smile widens as he shrugs. “It was important to you, man, so it was important to me. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

He pulls Castiel into another rough hug, then grins as he steps back. “First round’s on you on Friday.”

“The first round is always on me, since you’re always late,” Castiel points out. 

Benny laughs as Dean scowls. “He’s got you there, cher.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean shakes his head, hand on the door. “Maybe we’ll be there before you this time. It’s a week for trying new things, right? Like sex. Or punctuality.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel says pointedly. 

With one last wave, Dean and Benny are out the door. Castiel locks it behind them, a soft smile on his face as Cersei twines around his ankles.

There were no shattering revelations. The earth didn’t change its course, the stars didn’t fall from the sky. Castiel doesn’t feel any different now than he did a few hours ago, really, and he certainly doesn’t feel any differently about Dean. For most of his life, he’s been told that sex changes things, and maybe for some people it does. But he’s always known Dean is a generous, loyal, giving person, and what they did tonight just confirmed it. 

It felt good, and it was fun while it lasted, but he certainly isn’t going to be seeking it out again. More than anything, he’s humbled by the knowledge that Benny and Dean did this for him, that they care enough about his wants and his interests to offer their support. Their friendship hasn’t changed, either-- as evidenced by the casual discussion of a return to their normal Friday night routine. Life will go on, just the way it has, but now Castiel will know, once and for all, what it feels like to have sex.

He’s well-satisfied.


End file.
